For years 

We battled

He knew my every move

Was never

Thrown off

Faked out

And my futile attempts at attack

Were all returned to sender

He knew my weaknesses

As if they were his own

And was not afraid to

Take advantage of his knowledge 

The battleground was never even

After all

He didn't even have a face

At least

Not one that I could see

And I would find myself lost

In that presence-- his presence

His unnatural existence eventually began

To pry into the confines of my mind

Fraying the strands of my sanity

Pulling apart my carefully cobbled psyche

I can't tell you when exactly

Perhaps around years two or three

Regardless

The appeal of being beaten and bruised

Began to fade away

In its stead

Doubt crept in

I don't think I'm strong enough

To bear the burden of battle

I don't think I'm capable enough

To continue in this perpetual state of loss

I don't think I'm smart enough

To find the solution hidden between blows

So 

I made up my mind

I approached him one day

Same as I always did

He was on our battleground

Awaiting my first attack

But found that I had nothing left

To send

Save for a few choice words

I told him that it had been fun but

My fighting days were over

I extended my hand

Then the most peculiar thing happened

He reached out and put his hand in mine

Though that wasn't what was peculiar

As his fingers wrapped around mine 

I realized that the grip felt quite familiar

And familiarity was anything but familiar with him

I looked up and staring back at me

Was my own eyes and face

A haunting visage

An affront to God and me 

All at once

But what was I to do

I shook his hand

And that was the last of it

For me

At least

From what I've heard

He's still undefeated

And still looks like me

I pity those who have to fight him

Now that he's been given a face

They may just think he's real